JL | Com Ivanova, Capt Neyes - "Loch Lomond"

Posted on Thu Apr 21st, 2016 @ 10:17pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Captain Landon Neyes

3,722 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Resurgere

Cold Station Theta was a far cry from the all too vivid memories of the wind swept highlands of Atlantis Prime as they glowed purple, stepped in the fading sunlight of yet another glorious day. It was sterile and aptly named; cold. The promenade, however, refused to be kicked aside or overshadowed by the bonny pictures painted by her dreams. Rochelle was forced to smile as she made her way along the harsh metal catwalks that lead towards the habitation rings, the tempting thoughts of rushing head long for a version of what her dreams had presented all but forgotten and replaced by the hushed reminders of real sensation and the heart pounding rush that had come along the last time she'd visited the station.

Landon.

He'd returned to her there, recaptured what was rightfully his; the very essence of the fierce little woman and the endless bounds of her imagination - and he'd done so in one fell swoop that had set the future spinning wildly, and beautifully, out of control. Rochelle had no intention of slowing or stopping the whirlwind, not that she ever could. He was a free spirit ever so worthy of the delicate flush that had crept up to light the delicate contours of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose and would remain there for the remainder of her victorious trip from the Admiral's office to her makeshift home until the Vindicator was rebirthed.

"I see they haven't spruced this place up any since we were here last."

Neyes strolled beside her, now a security detail tagging along. Landon had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer, and often up close. The jury of his own mind had been witness to the atrocities of his enemies, and there was no guilt or shaken confidence in the halls Neyes' inner workings. Tr'bak had to be stopped. Sometimes that meant war, even if he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The JAG officer had been appointed by Captain Lansine, Landon's longtime friend and fellow officer, and had spent more than enough time explaining all the details of the hearing to both himself and Rochelle. As his commanding officer, she was technically also in hot water for his actions. Albeit, not nearly as much as he.

"Rochelle." Landon stopped, and the small cavalcade of officers with them ground to halt.

She felt him before she saw him. It was a current, not unlike electricity, that bound and rooted her firmly to him. It bristled along the line of her spine before surging deep through her core and whispering that he, again, had returned. The tense line of her shoulders relaxed by a margin, allowing her guard to begin to rest in the knowledge that he was there - even if he wasn't alone. Their retinue only served to set the pretty features of her face in a scowl and left her with naught but a hum of acknowledgement and the flick of her eyes towards the unfinished hall that had become a place near and dear to her heart for reasons most taboo. She should have snickered, smirked, ribbed him gently... Something, but instead she remained lost and steely in her quiet resolve while surrounded by their detail. At least until he called her name and, as if tethered to him by some invisible magic chain, she fell out of stride and turned to face him. Rochelle's head tilted to one side in question as she observed him with surprisingly quiet eyes.

He couldn't count the number of times he'd spent just looking at her, wanting to reach out and fix that damned lock of hair. Now sometimes she felt a world away, lost in a land of thought he would never be able to reach. Her eyes appeared far away. She had been tightly wound, and a little sad, since the Vindicator had been lost. He'd offered to write the correspondence to the families of the officers who'd been killed that day, partly out of responsibility, but also to spare her any more grief for something he largely considered his own fault. She... She didn't deserve all this. The impudent, entitled child in him called out to just leave and never look back, but that wasn't an option anymore. His absence would firmly hammer the nail in Rochelle's future, and would certainly cause her more harm than it would prevent.

This spiral of thoughts happened often now, and he felt like his mental control was losing battles he normally never fought. He wasn't focused, and part of him worried it would be the one step he tripped on in this courtroom. "Too late to run off and never be seen again? To vanish in among the stars?" He voice was quiet, and light-hearted, but some of it was a genuine cry to run away with her. He had never felt as tied to the Federation as he did to her... hell, not even to his own people.

A smile tugged at her mouth, relentless in its pursuit of lighting the lines of her face, and Rochelle was helpless to stop it. Her head jerked slightly in an attempt to rid her line of vision of her ever unruly lock of hair, and her hands reached to find and take his - smoothing her thumbs over the tops of his chilled knuckles. Even the dramatic difference in temperature between his and her flesh had become an odd comfort. He was there. Alive. Free. "The thought has crossed my mind a time or two, I'll admit." She replied most sheepishly, "but they seem to have other plans for us. Bigger and better things." At least she wanted to believe in those words. Her eyes searched his, finding the hurt and worry and guilt all wrapped within the beautiful blue irises she loved so much, and to him she offered a comforting smile. "We have a whole new chapter to start, you and I, Admiral's orders."

He nodded, and they resumed the walk. "So what's really the plan. If I know anything about the almighty Federation of Planets, then I know they're not above sending a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Greater good, need of the many, take your pick."

"Their plan remains to be seen." Rochelle replied as she fell back in stride with him. "Near as I can tell they're watching and waiting. Tr'Bak and the Empire haven't breathed a word of complaint and the Ascendancy is saying it was all a big misunderstanding. We're off the hook." Her words paused then and her brow furrowed ever so slightly, "Unless... They just dug the hook in deep and cast us out to sea as bait. There's always that morbid possibility. Capture Tr'Bak and all that."

Neyes scoffed, "I think they misunderstand that bait should not have teeth." He had considered what would happen the next time Tr'Bak showed Landon his face. The results were not peaceful.

"I don't know what plans they have for me, or for us, but I do not plan on being around if they decide they need to lose the bait."

She reached for him, her knuckles brushing his in a small measure of comfort. "Agreed... But if we quit now? They win."

---

Rochelle hadn't needed to embellish on who they were. The rest of the journey was spent in relative silence until they reached the quarters the Admiral had assigned them. The old legend of a woman hadn't the foggiest care when it had come down to her orders - they'd be placed together. A poignant statement, if ever there was one. Rochelle knew it had been made by Blyx Red; the loving, meddlesome, worried Aunt more so than Blyx Red; the blowhard Admiral. It made the diminutive woman smile and shake her head when she'd received the memo, not that they'd ever had plans of being apart. The crew, and universe it would seem, were far from ignorant of the fact the former Command team were an item. Even if they had been, Rochelle's burgeoning midsection erased any remaining doubt.

Away from prying eyes and extra ears, the little Phoenix found it all too easy to shirk the stress and the tension from her shoulders and line of her over worked spine. No sooner did the doors close behind them did she turn to loop her arms around Landon's narrow waist. With her belly pressed against him, she was forced to bend forward to rest her weary head against his chest. It was a worthy task. With him she found comfort, solace, a chance for rejuvenation and forgiveness for her paltry sins. "Thank you," she hummed as her eyes closed and she allowed herself to focus on nothing more than the moment at hand and the appreciation she felt for the sacrifices he'd made to get to that exact way point in time, "for everything you've done."

Landon felt the natural response to her embrace as he simply held her when she reached out. The inevitable wash of warmth she brought him poured once again over him as the he took in the moment. It hadn't needed to be stolen in the turbolift or in the privacy of their quarters on the ship. They were finally coming to place where their love was simply open and known, and the fact that 'they' were common knowledge seemed to ease some of the burdens of their time together.

"There are very few things I wouldn't do for you." He didn't know what she was specifically referring to, but he didn't really need to. He was grateful for her all the same.

Nosing deeper into the warmth of his chest, Rochelle was sluggish to reply, "I won't even ask." With him time slowed down to a less hectic and frantic pace, and all she knew was the peace he afforded to her even then as they once more skirted the savage blade of fate. Providence seemed keen to be on their side, and she equally as keen to keep it that way. "But in all seriousness... Thank you for being there, for helping, for just being you."

Landon returned her affectionate motions and then pulled a PADD off the nearby table. "The JAG defense Robert assigned to me is due to call in a few minutes. She wants to go over the details of case, and get our statements for her review." He'd given more than a dozen statements to at least eight different flag officers since the destruction of the Vindicator. Each one acted just as frustratingly apathetic to their situation as the last, and seemed less interested in the lives lost than finding the person responsible. As if blaming the attack on a flagship wasn't someone the sole responsibility of the Romulan Star Empire.

Sighing heavily, Rochelle broke from the solace he provided and rubbed her forehead. Robert. At least there was always Robert to provide the defense and stand beside Landon, beside them, when push came to even rougher shove. "We owe him a bottle of wine at the very least. Something exotic." She muttered half under her breath. "At least we have Admiral Red going to bat for us. She made an excellent point when she brought up that the RSE hasn't even made a pip about this issue... Almost as if they're distancing themselves from tr'Bak."

The diminutive woman's nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed as she savored the flavor of those words and slowly opened her mouth to continue, "He's gone, you know." Silence pervaded again as she moved to fill a glass with water for each of them, "Hasn't been seen or heard from, his crew, his ship... Nothing," She added, gesturing with one hand as she offered him his glass. "It's like he never really existed at all... And that troubles me."

"Nothing from Intelligence? Surely Archer has a lead on him. He left in a recently embattled Romulan starship. He can't have simply vanished." He idly thought about his own personal stash of spirits, and which Robert, or Captain Lansine as he was referred to outside friendly circles, would appreciate. He'd served with Landon long enough for the two to drink together, but as they were commonly on duty it wasn't a frequent event.

"People like brandy, yeah? Or were you thinking more like a bottle of wine?" He sipped the water as he realized he'd passively dodged the topic of tr'Bak.

"Archer's exact report was that tr'Bak was last seen fleeing the Ascendancy's system. No one has any tabs on him, not even Dani or Archer or Red." Rochelle's voice made a reprisal only to be stilled by the smallest, wryest of smiles and a tilt of her head as she studied the Trill in front of her. Tr'Bak was as sore spot. A bruise that refused to heal for both of them, but worst of all for him. "People do like brandy," She replied softly with a nod, "You know Robert's tastes far better than I do, but I'd be willing to bet he'd appreciate brandy more so than a Terran wine. At this point we should probably consider sending him both."

Landon took another sip as he pondered, "I suppose it's too much to ask if we just assume tr'Bak was murdered by his own crew for being unerringly obtuse in the face of rational ethics or conscience? Yeah, I suppose that would be too much to ask. Where could he have gone? Where would he go to hide from there? It's not like the Atlantean homeworld is on the way to anything." The pang of guilt and anger brought on by discussing tr'Bak were simply unavoidable, and a reality he would need to accept in the coming days, maybe weeks. The court process would expose his wounds for the world to see, at least the Starfleet world. Wounds bound up in his writhing hatred of the Romulan man responsible for all this.

"After all this is over maybe I should go and find him." Landon said sternly, setting down his glass.

With pursed lips, the redhead simply let him talk and guide himself through the verbal processing of his thoughts. She knew better than to interrupt. Not about this topic. Not when she was the one that picked at the scab. “He wouldn’t find sanctuary on Atlantis Prime. Not with Kyym dead and our regime in place.” She offered as a small, reluctant comfort. “The Ascendancy has stated that he’s unwelcome in their space, the RSE is busy with the Klingons and he simply isn’t there… Beyond that? I don’t know.”

Setting her own half-empty glass down on the table beside his, Rochelle reached to grab his arms with her hands. “I do know, however, that you will not go looking for him. You’ll stay put with the Vindicator until such a time comes that we decide ‘the Hell with this shit’ and finally retire. You’ll stay away from him…” Her voice drifted off as her eyebrows hiked and forehead wrinkled with the intensity of her gaze as she looked him in the eye, demanding that he understand where she was coming from, what her words meant and the weight that was packed behind them, “Unless of course he comes to play on our playground. Self-defense is still a viable alibi if and when he dares show us his face again.” Though she sincerely hoped there was never to be a ‘when’.

Neyes smiled, "Yes ma'am. If I'm not to go see to the demise of my new found mortal nemesis, then I suppose I should make sure you're attending your mandatory obstetrician appointments... I haven't watched you go since the last time we stepped off a spacecraft, so I assume you have one scheduled here? Soon?" He knew she hated to be babied about the baby. Part of him just wanted to make sure she was taking care of herself, and a doctor would be a second voice in her ear.

With narrowed eyes the little woman released her lover's arms and pursed her lips. He was a shrewd creature when he wanted to be, pointed and filled with a sense of creative vengeance she hadn't quite yet learned to outwit - and likely never would. "Touche," She answered, "they've been busy taking care of our wounded, but I'll make a point out of being seen." She sniffed indignantly, "If it'll make you happy. As it is, the Admiral has ordered me off duty until after his birth. I don't suppose you had something to do with this?"

"I don't give orders to Admirals, Commodore. Especially not with JAG breathing down my neck." He shrugged innocently. "I think given the circumstances, your peers think you should focus on what you can. You are only a single human after all, Rochelle. You can't rebuild the Vindicator, save me from judiciary discipline and grow another person while dealing with every issue the crew has. You have me, and Almar, and Archer. You have an entire senior staff dedicated to running things for you.

"So go to the freakin' doctor." He whispered gently, looking down from under a raised brow. "Or I will have Tristan in here twice a week to do full workups on you. He's offered a couple times, you know. I have been fending him off."

For a long moment there was silence punctuated only by the slow blinking of her eyes as she absorbed his mini-rant and processed it, mulled over it. It wasn't often that people were sharp and candid with her. So many chose to pussy foot around topics and simply yes her to death to keep from inspiring any form of her ire. There were rare exceptions to that unwritten rule - with him being the prime 'exhibit A' and Archer following along on his coat tails almost too close for comfort. Tristan would easily rank a close third in that proverbial horse race, and that was being kind to Almar breathing down his neck to stay abreast of that game.

She wanted to indignantly fight him, tell him he was wrong and that she could easily shoulder all of the above and more - but she knew, as well as he did, that she simply couldn't. She was one person and while she could easily move mountains, she was needed in places now that would need her full and undivided attention. While Vindicator needed a solid command force, Landon needed his other half and, most importantly, Javaan was going to need his mother in those precious and precarious early weeks of his life.

"You're right." The words tasted sour to say, but she found herself nodding in agreement. "I've been piling everything else on my plate to try and cover the one thing that should be my focus." She added sheepishly and drew another breath. "Can I make a confession?"

"Sure." He nodded.

"Well..." Her nose wrinkled again as she bobbed her head in a minor wince against the very notion of her thoughts, of exposing any form of rebellious weakness. "I'm scared."

Landon leaned back and took on an air of 'of course you are', "You're allowed to be, even if you don't need to. Fear is a fact of life, but I like to focus on the people who are here to have my back. You aren't in this alone, and you don't have to feel like taking care of what's most important to you is letting anyone down. I don't want to make any pressure worse, or encourage the sense that you're limited in your ability.

"That said, you've been through a lot. We've been through a lot. You're the CO, and a Federation flag officer. Taking care of yourself is synonymous with doing your job well... and I love you." He took a quick breath, like any man trying not to belittle or lecture to the woman in his life, and waited quietly for his swift kick in the shins.

"I love you too, more than you know... But... No... It's not that." Rochelle's head shook emphatically and she waved away the notion with her hand. "I've long since made peace with the fear of failure as a commanding officer. It's just something I'll have to live with and know that if it ever disappears and complacency steps into it's place that it's time to retire for the good of everyone concerned." The pink of her tongue was quick to soothe her lips as she tried to make sense of the jumble of nerves clogging the pit of her stomach with knots even the ancient Celts would have been in awe of. "What I'm scared of is failing at being a mother... A wife, even, but a mother first and foremost."

Landon moved toward her and put his hand over hers, "You're already great at both," his eyes looked up as he remembered they hadn't actually tied the knot just yet, "almost both." He smiled. "Our baby is going to grow up with the strongest mother I've ever known, and a father who can share tons of 'cool' stories about a hundred different worlds across a dozen lifetimes. I can't imagine getting a better head start than that.

"I also imagine he'll learn to fly a mean starship one of these days." Landon clicked his teeth reassuringly, moving back over to his water glass.

"Commodore, Captain, the JAG office is on comms waiting to speak with you. Shall I put her through?" An unseen voice offered, after an indicative beep.

Caught mid-breath, Rochelle was forced to scrap her response for the mean time. It would have to wait for the hours that came when the hustle and bustle of the station, of Starfleet Command, tempered down and laid themselves to rest for the evening. "Put her through." she said, passing Landon a single look of warm understanding and appreciation before the steel of command molded itself to her features in nothing more than the blink of an eye and the setting of her weary shoulders.

---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E (destroyed)

Captain Landon Neyes
Command Liaison
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E (destroyed)

 

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